


and the road not taken looks real good now

by witchy_country616



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29733591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_country616/pseuds/witchy_country616
Summary: A collection of Anthony and Siena drabbles/short stories, based on tumblr prompts.[2] Meeting in prison AU[3] Exes meeting again after not speaking for years AU[4] why are you wasting both of our time when you so clearly wish you were with someone else?
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Siena Rosso
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. "You look at him the way I look at you."

**Author's Note:**

> So, instead of posting each drabble as a new story, I decided to post everything here from now on, for organizational purposes.  
> Title comes from Taylor Swift's 'tis the damn season and doesn't it fit santhony perfectly? Anyway, enjoy!

“You look at him the way I look at you.” Siena stilled at the sound of his voice coming from behind her. The words seemed to brush against the hairs on the back of her neck, even though she was at loss as to their meaning. 

It had been three years. Too long, some would say. Not long enough to heal her heart, she would’ve answered. 

Anthony came closer and stopped beside her. His hair was cut slightly different, shorter, following the current London fashion. And she thought she could see some extra worry lines around his eyes. But his body still had that same physicality that she had throughly enjoyed years ago and he looked more attractive than ever. She had sincerely hoped married life would’ve turned him soft and fat, but it didn’t seem to be the case. Yet, she added to herself. They had only been married for two years, after all. 

She had known there was a chance she would be seeing him tonight. It was the most sought out event of the season and surely the Bridgertons wouldn’t miss it. And she had been, if she were completely honest, equally dreading and hoping for an encounter. But she hadn’t noticed when he had arrived and his unexpected presence next to her left her feeling out of sorts.

“My lord.” She greeted him as calmly as she could manage, bowing her head. If she pretended he was just another gentleman, it became easier. “It’s been a while. I hope you’re well.”

“Siena.” He didn’t bother calling her Miss Rosso or feigning they didn’t know each other. And there was still that same softness she had missed about how he pronounced her name. If anyone were listening in to their conversation, it sure would be enough to raise commentaries about his lack of propriety. She could only imagine what Lady Whistledown would write about it on her paper next morning. “I see you’re doing well…with the Prince.” 

He knew it then. Of course he knew. It was only the most talked about subject (scandal, if one was to use their favorite word) of the ton.

“His Grace has been most kind to me.” She answered politely, a small smile gracing her lips. “I can’t complain of anything.” 

Indeed, it was the truth, Prince Friedrich had been very attentive. The invitation to perform, and later the spot as lead soprano at the Vienna Opera House, she had gotten all on her own. But it had taken one look at her during the performance of Medea (and a meeting in her dressing room afterwards) for the Prince to fall head over heels. He had sat her up in a townhouse on the most elegant and desirable neighborhood in Vienna and lavished her with all kinds of presents, more gowns and jewelry than she knew what to do with. He also had a goodness to him Siena had rarely found in members of the male sex, especially not in those of royal blood. Sometimes she still wondered how she had gotten so lucky to find such a protector. 

So when Friedrich asked her to travel back to London with him, in another one of his visits to his dear aunt, Siena could hardly deny his request. Not even knowing it meant likely seeing Anthony again.

“I…I am happy for you, Siena.” She searched for a hint of irony in his words and found none. His eyes looked sad, but she could tell he meant every word he said. “I can see it when you look at him. You’re in love.”

Siena could feel her carefully constructed façade of indifference crumbling under his words.

What was it that he had said? _You look at him the way I look at you._

Oh.

“Anthony…” His name came out pained before she could stop herself. She didn’t know how to continue that sentence. _I’m not. I am, but not…_

Before she could say anything she would surely regret and make a fool of herself, he took her gloved hand into his and dropped a parting kiss on it. 

The kiss was brief, a mockery of the intimacy they had once shared, but he held her hand a moment longer than necessary and she could feel herself shivering. 

“Be well, Siena.“

Her eyes closed involuntarily at his words and, when she opened them again, he was already halfway across the ballroom. 

Friedrich showed up a moment later, a glass of champagne in hand for her. “Was it the Viscount Bridgerton I saw talking to you?”

“Indeed, Your Grace.” She answered, taking her flute from him and willing her hands to stop shaking. 

Apparently she didn’t do a good enough job, because Friedrich looked concerned. “Are you alright, my love? You look a little pale. He didn’t say anything to upset you, did he?”

Most of the London society didn’t approve of their relationship, and he knew they would say things to her that they wouldn’t dare say in his presence. 

“No, nothing of the sort. He was just playing his compliments to my acting skills.”

Friedrich beamed at that. “As he should, my dear. I’ve never met an opera singer who interpreted the stories so well. Your acting is as good as your singing.”

Siena smiled lovingly at him.

 _The greatest actress of all_ , she thought.


	2. Meeting in prison AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> santhony + meeting in prison au, modern setting, wc. 1.4k

One of the main reasons for Anthony to take the job with _Featherington Law_ was never, ever, having to practice criminal law and visit a prison. The one time he went to one during university was more than enough. He would not be like so many of his classmates, going from precinct to precinct looking for clients, defending traffickers and murders. That was beneath a Bridgerton. Business and Tax Law, on the other hand, was just the type of legal work that ensured a comfortable and rich future, without dealing with the most unsavory elements of society.

And yet, here he was twenty miles south of London, after a forty minutes hell drive, in front of Her Majesty’s Prison Bronzefield. Turns out, you don’t have much choice when you’re the youngest lawyer at your firm and the mistress of one of your most important clients just got arrested and put on remand. 

Anthony sighed in frustration, taking his belongings out of his pockets to pass them through the scanner while he went through the metal detector. Thankfully, as lawyers, they didn’t not have to suffer through the indignity of a body search. 

“Counselor”, the guard returned his belongings to him, “you can see her now. First door to right.”

Anthony nodded in thanks and proceeded to the room in question. The other guard at the door opened the door to him. 

“She is already inside, sir.” 

Anthony didn’t know what he was expecting of Sir Nigel Berbrooke’s mistress. Some bubbly blonde with large assets and legs for days, maybe. Definitely not this.

Miss Rosso was already sitting at the table, her hands shacked in front of her. She was small, five foot two, maybe five three, from what he could guess. The prison’s uniform was clearly a size too big and engulfed her. Her skin was olive-toned and she had beautiful long brown hair, tied back in a pony tail. She also had the sharpest eyes he had ever seen, narrowed at him. 

Anthony could already tell she didn’t trust him one bit. 

“Miss Rosso”, he said in greeting, sitting at the only other available chair in the room, in front of her. “My name is Anthony Bridgerton. I was sent here to represent you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you during your arrest hearing, but I’ll be with you in the next one.” 

“You look expensive.” She commented, assessing him. The well-cut black suit, the polished shoes, the Mont Blanc on his suit’s front pocket. He was a far-cry from the fumbling, fresh-faced lawyer she had gotten at her arrest hearing. 

Anthony smiled. “I am.” 

“I don’t have any money. And I certainly didn’t call you.” 

“You don’t need to worry about the money.” Anthony answered, giving her a kind smile he hoped was reassuring. 

Siena looked back at him suspiciously and he added. “I was sent by a…mutual friend. He was concerned about you.”

Siena let out a chuckle and her cuffs rattled against the table. Anthony could only stare at her in confusion. 

“Is something funny?” 

“Do you even know why I am here, Mr. Bridgerton?” She asked, a feral smile gracing her lips.

“Of course. Cocaine. Possession with the intent of selling. You were deemed a flight risk because of your Italian passport. I read your file, Miss Rosso. And I recommend you plead guilty, we could get you a suspended sentence or maybe community service. You do not want this to drag on and give the prosecution a chance to charge you with international trafficking. That could mean anything from six to twelve years in this place.”

Anthony thought he had finally scared her into taking the proceedings seriously when he saw her flinch at the number of years she could spend in prison. But when she talked again, it was still in that same mocking tone.

“And the idea of pleading guilty…was that yours or from our mutual friend?” 

Siena saw he was affronted at her words. 

“Look, I don’t know what went on between you and him. He said you two were… _involved._ Clearly, things are more complicated than that. You don’t need to tell me. But I am here to help you. You were caught with a large amount of cocaine in your car. There’s no getting around it. Our best bet is to plead guilty and get you a reduced sentence. You’re young, no priors. The judge will be lenient. I can see to that. Let me help you, Siena.” 

In his eagerness to make her see reason, he had used her first name instead of calling her “Miss Rosso” and Siena noticed she liked the way he said it, soft with a hint of desperation. It was very apt to the situation she now found herself in, she thought. 

And now…now she had to decide if she could trust him or not.

“You seem like a decent guy, Anthony.” She finally said, after a long pause.

“I try to be.” Anthony answered seriously and honestly.

“And a good lawyer?”

“I believe I am better than good.” He smiled at her. There might have been a hint of flirtation in his words, but he ignored it. 

Siena raised one of her eyebrows at him. “You’re cocky too. I suppose that is to be expected.” She paused. “You’re wrong, though.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“About why I am here. I…I found out something, something really bad.” She still remembers the horror she felt when she realized she wasn’t the only one he had been hurting. There was Rosie, the maid he paid off when her condition became clear; Amelia, the prostitute who had warned Siena off him in what she had thought was petty jealousy at the time; and the teenage red-haired girl from the gala Siena had stopped him from hurting further. And those were the only ones she _knew_ about. “He was hurting girls, you see. I couldn’t let it keep happening. When I threatened to go to the police, he made sure I would be silenced.”

Anthony stared at her in disbelief. “Are you saying the drugs were planted? By who?”

“Who do you think? Who had access to the car at all times? Who had money to buy this large quantity of drugs? Who called the police? Who made sure I would be arrested alone? That I would be sent here for being a flight risk. Who now brought a big shot lawyer here to make sure I knew what my options were? What will happen to me if I don’t keep my mouth shut.” 

“Are you saying that…” 

“You don’t believe me.” Siena had tears in her years and she seemed to have lost all hope. He wanted to comfort her. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, it was that he didn’t see it _before_. 

He remembered Daphne coming home from the gala in tears, with her dress torn to shreds. He remembered how she never wanted to be left alone with Berbrooke afterwards, finding any excuse to leave the room as soon as he appeared. Anthony remembered confronting her about it, telling her she was being _rude_ to one of his most important clients. He remembered the hurtful expression in her face then.

What an idiot he had been, putting a client before his own family. He would set things right now.

“I believe you.” 

“What?” 

“Siena, I believe you.” Anthony had a determined expression in his face and, for the first time since she had been arrested, Siena finally had some hope. He reached across the table and took her cuffed hands into his. “We’re fighting back. He doesn’t get to win.”

“He is more powerful than you think.” She found herself saying. Anthony had given her hope and, in turn, she felt compelled to give him an out. This wouldn’t be easier and she didn’t want him to regret his choice. “He has a lot of friends. He could ruin you too.” 

Anthony knew that. He knew he had pretty much said goodbye to his job at _Featherington Law_ by siding with Siena. No more tax law and partner at thirty-five. And that was only one of the many ways Berbrooke could hurt him and his family. It didn’t matter, though. It was all worth it to know he was finally doing something right.

“I don’t care.” He said firmly. The whole time his hands still held hers, taking comfort and strength from her touch. “I can’t let him keep doing this. And I won’t let him ruin your life.” 

He squeezed her hand once more. _It's you and me now._


	3. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: exes meeting again after not speaking for years au, post-canon, future fic, wc. 2.1k.

Siena wouldn’t lie, over the years she had imagined many scenarios for meeting Anthony again. He would attend one of her performances, she would spot him among the crowd and miss the next note, making the audience gasp collectively. Or they would cross paths down the street, with her coming out of Genevieve’s shop and him coming in with his mother and sisters. They would freeze for a moment, caught in each other’s eyes, then she would run as fast as she could in the other direction. Or maybe, just maybe, she would finally attend one of Anthony’s balls, in the arms of another gentleman, and he would stare helplessly at her as she waltzed the night away.

But soon a year passed and they didn’t meet each other once. She left for France with her new protector and, shortly after, Genevieve wrote to inform that, _just in case she was wondering_ , the Viscount Bridgerton had finally married. Genevieve enclosed a sketch of the wedding gown she had designed for the bride. Siena understood her friend’s message loud and clear. It wasn’t cruelty. It was simply time to let go.

Of course, as much as she told herself that, her heart wasn’t as easily convinced. And sometimes, in the dark of night, she still indulged in fantasies and dreams. He would come to France on business and their paths would cross at a Parisian café. Or his wife would die of consumption and he would finally come running back to her. This one left her so horrified at her own selfishness that she found herself back in church, lightening a candle and praying for the Viscountess’ health.

Then time passed, as time ought to. Ten years went by in the blink of an eye. She went from Paris to Vienna to Milan. From _Le Théâtre National_ to the _Theater in der Leopoldstadt_ to _La Scala._ She was famous all over continental Europe. She was adored. And she had accepted that Anthony belonged to her past. She would remember their time together fondly, instead of tormenting herself with what ifs and regrets.

And now, here he was, hat in hand, standing at the door to her grandmother’s house, in the Tuscan town that carried the same name as she did, twelve years after they had parted ways. Older, yes, with some gray hairs and rug lines that the boy she had known didn’t possess, but equally handsome.

Siena couldn’t hide her astonishment as she openly stared at him, without knowing what to do.

“What…what are you doing here?”

“I stopped by the theatre first.” He answered simply, as if it was the most common thing. As if they had an appointment to meet for tea she had forgotten about and now he came to remind her. “ _Signore_ Maldini told me you were here.”

Siena bet he did. _Signore_ Maldini, who managed the day-to-day affairs of the Milanese theatre, was the biggest gossiper she knew. He must have been delighted to tell Anthony where she was staying. And by now, the whole cast of _La Scala_ \- and probably half of Milan - already knew that some English gentleman had come looking for her.

“He mentioned you were sick.” He kept moving the hat in his hands in worry. “Are you feeling better?”

“It was just a cold that wouldn’t leave.” It had been a bit more than that. It had kept her from performing. Siena remembered how scared she had felt when week after week went by and she couldn’t sing an aria without having a coughing fit. “The doctor recommended a change of airs and warmer climate.”

Anthony nodded, but the worry still clouded his eyes and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand any of it.

“My lord, why are you here?”

“Do you think I could come in?” Anthony asked and Siena noticed then they were in the same position as when they had last seen each other. Her at the door, and him in her steps. All that was missing was the other man. “That is, if you don’t…”

Siena stepped aside, showing him inside. “I’m sorry for my manners. I guess I was a bit surprised.”

“It’s understandable. Is this your house?” He looked around the place curiously.

Siena supposed that compared to his usual lodgings, it wasn’t much. The house was a good size, and it even had two floors, but it was in desperate need of repairs. The living room only had one couch, a writing desk and a chair on one side and the fireplace occupying the other side. At least she had fixed the leaking in the roof before Anthony arrived. She would’ve been mortified if he had seen that.

“It's my grandmother’s. Well, it’s mine now. She died last year and left it for me.”

Despite all the conditions, Siena had never been more relieved to have this place than when she had gotten sick. Leaking or not, it ensured she at least had a roof over her head and, with the money she had saved over the years, it was enough to live comfortably for some time. And although the house was far from the city center, which meant long walks to the market whenever needed, it also had a huge backyard and a great view of the Tuscan hills which had done wonders, if not for her health, at least for her soul.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

Siena shrugged her shoulders. “It's okay.”

“Siena…”

They were still standing on the living room, she realized now. And whatever Anthony had to say, she didn’t want him to say it here.

“Come.” She said, already walking from the living room to the kitchen and taking the tea set she had left there for her afternoon tea and adding another cup to the tray. “We can sit on the patio and you can say whatever you have to say there.”

Anthony nodded and moved to follow her.

Siena opened the garden doors and felt some of the excitement over Anthony’s arrival leaving her, the calmness she had grown used to here returning to her. This was her favorite place in the house, probably in the city. The patio had a set of iron chairs and a table where to she directed Anthony and set their tea. It was spring and the whole backyard was blooming with flowers she had tended to herself. It filled her with pride to know she had turned the garden around all on her own, and maybe she wasn’t creating art, but at least she could help nature give and nurture life.

From their seats at the patio, they could also see part of the road and some of the Tuscan hills so many painters had tried and failed to capture the beauty of.

“It's beautiful here.” Anthony said in amazement.

“I know,” she answered, smiling. “I’ve been here for six months and it still takes my breath away every time.”

“Thank you for bringing me back here.”

She poured the tea for them. It was one of the few English habits she still kept, drinking a cup of tea while watching the Tuscan sunset, though she hardly ever had any company.

“You're welcome. Now…why are you here, Anthony?”

During all the time they spent together, she hardly ever used his name. But, after so many years, and inside her own idilic corner of the world, she felt she was finally allowed to.

Anthony let out a small chuckle, “I guess the scandals of the ton don’t make their way to little corners of heaven in Italy.”

“I'm afraid we don’t yet receive Lady Whistledown’s papers, no.” She said and, because she also worried about him, added, “Is everything okay? Is the Viscountess well?”

Anthony smile grew bigger at her question and he laughed. “The Viscountess is very well. She is currently enjoying herself to our country house with her lover. Female lover.”

“Oh.” That was certainly unexpected. Siena snorted. “I'm sorry. I’m sure that must have been most distressing for you.”

“Not as much as it should’ve been.” He answered seriously, staring directly at her.

Siena bit her lip and turned away from him, looking at the garden. “I see.” She paused and took a sip from her tea. “Are there any kids?”

The last news she had from Anthony were of his marriage on Genevieve’s letter. Afterwards, she never asked and, if she knew of anything, her friend never mentioned it.

“No. None.”

The answer didn’t shock her as much as how _unbothered_ he seemed by it. That had always seemed so important when they were together, to have an heir. It had been his duty, after all.

“You could always get an annulment and marry again.”

When he didn’t offer any reply, Siena looked back at him. “But you won’t.”

Anthony sighed and drank his tea before answering it. “It seems… _unkind_ to separate the Viscountess and the woman she loves, doesn’t it? Why should they suffer for being in love?”

She smiled softly. _Anthony Bridgerton._ She had always known he was a hopeless romantic.

“And the title?”

Anthony shrugged. “Benedict has two boys and so does Colin. It shall pass to one of them upon my death. Though, hopefully, a long time from now.”

“You seem to have made your peace with it.” It amazed her he wasn’t right now back in England attempting to perform his duties to perfection.

“Did you know I had never left England before?” Siena shook her head, though it didn’t come exactly as a surprise. She had travelled all over Europe like a gipsy, but he had stayed, strong and steady, since becoming head of the family at twenty. “Simon left to see the world and so did Colin. But I stayed. I never even considered leaving, except…”

He paused and looked away from her as both of them remembered the one time he was talking about. He didn’t finish that sentence, he didn’t need to.

“When the rumors started, the Viscountess left for the country and I didn’t see the point of staying in London, hearing the catty comments about my failed marriage.”

Siena nodded in understanding.

“You should know,” he continued, “I didn’t set out to see you.”

“Is that so?” She didn’t know if she should feel offended or not at that when he ended up at her door all the same.

“I went to Spain first. Not Italy. Not France.” The _no country that would’ve reminded me of you_ was implied, but she understood it.

“That's a beautiful country too. I performed there for the King once.”

“Of course you did.” He smiled fondly at her. “So, I was walking down the streets in Barcelona one day, seeing all these marvelous things around me, and I realized there was only person I wanted to share that experience with. One person I wanted by my side. The same person I have always wanted. And I was wasting my time. I was letting my injured pride and my fear of another rejection prevent me from pursuing her.”

He looked directly into her eyes through the whole speech. After all this time. It was preposterous and fantastical and her heart was beating so fast it felt like it would leave her chest.

He raised his hand to her face and caressed it softly, tracing the contours of her lips and her chin just like he used to do. Siena closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of his fingers on her skin once more.

“Then you went to Milan?” She asked.

“No.” He answered with a little laugh and she opened her eyes. “As far as I knew, you were in Paris. So I went there. Then to Vienna. And finally to Milan. Every place I went, you had already left. It figures I would have to come to your city to find you.”

He grabbed her hands into his and dropped a kiss on top of it. She could hardly believe what was happening.

He had gone through quite the journey. For her. _Back to her_.

“I don’t know if I can sing anymore.” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

“What are you talking about?” Anthony looked back at her in confusion but didn’t drop her hands.

“Ever since I got sick, I can’t… The coughing was too bad. I’m better now, but… I’m afraid of trying and not being able.” It felt good to finally confess her feelings to someone. “And, to be honest, I don’t know if I want to go back. I miss singing but I don’t miss the stage.”

He kept caressing her hands through her confession, providing her support.

“You should do whatever makes you the happiest.” He said simply.

Siena got up from her chair and sat on his lap. Her hands on both sides of his face, looking directly into his eyes as she asked, “And you?”

“That’s also up to you. I will stay for as long as you will have me.”

 _Forever_ , Siena thought. Then she kissed him, again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the theaters mentioned actually existed at the time Siena was performing, because I care more for historical accuracy than Bridgerton does.  
> Who is the Viscountess? Who is her lover? Who cares? I don't lol. I just wanted a post-canon happy ending for all involved. Anthony and Siena are now living happily together in Tuscany (and yes, they totally did it in the patio after and if I was better at smut, I'd have written it).


	4. why are you wasting both of our time when you so clearly wish you were with someone else?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony & Kate talk, Santhony background, angst, wc. 1.2k, post-canon/set somewhere during s02.

After their dance, Lord Bridgerton escorted her to one of the quietest corners of the ballroom, a private place for them to talk to while still in plain view of the ton. Kate supposed that, to anyone watching, they would seem rather intimate. In fact, she could almost see the pleased smiles on her mama and the Dowager Viscountess’ faces, as they imagined planning another wedding at the end of the season. She resisted the urge to groan in discontentment, for it would be most unladylike.

Kate wasn’t completely opposed to marriage and the Viscount was certainly a fine catch, but he was so dull and proper the whole time. He knew nothing of India and he didn’t seem interesting in learning about her country or even herself. That is, besides what was necessary to ascertain that she would be an adequate wife.

If she were to marry, surely, there were better, more exciting prospects to be found amongst London’s society. Someone charming, travelled, eager to explore new lands, who would treat her as his equal. Someone… not unlike Captain Ellingsworth, whom she met on her travel from India to England. She had enjoyed their conversations on the deck of the ship immensely, as the Captain told her about his travels and she shared stories of her country and culture. But the Captain never once mentioned marriage, and, besides, her papa would never consent to such a union, to a second son, that earned his living in the navy.

Papa would not satisfy himself with anything less than a titled firstborn, like Lord Bridgerton, who had not said a word to her after escorting her from the dance floor and shoving a glass of water in her hand.

Kate looked back at him, ready to complain about his treatment, only to realize his gaze was fixed on the other side of the room, where a woman dressed in a sinfully (for the British, anyway) deep red laced gown was surrounded by a group of gentlemen.

Miss Rosso was undoubtedly the best soprano Kate had ever heard in her life. She had sang a couple of arias in the beginning of the ball, before the dancing had started, and was now receiving accolades from her adoring fans. A young one had even offered a bouquet of flowers and pledged his undying love to her, to the others’ amusement. Kate would’ve loved to meet her, to ask where she found the inspiration to sing with such passion, but it wouldn’t be proper for a young, unmarried lady such as herself to entertain such company.

The Viscount, she noticed, also seemed incapable to take his eyes away from her. It was so glaringly obvious that Kate wondered how it had taken her so long to see it. He had asked her to dance as soon as Miss Rosso’s performance had come to an end, his movements both purposeful and stiff, as if he was forcing himself to do it, as if he had something to prove to someone. And she prided herself on being observant, really!

Kate took a sip from her water glass and decided to act accordingly to what she, personally, always felt was her best quality: blunt honesty.

“You know, why are you wasting both of our time when you so clearly wish you were with someone else?”

He looked back at her quickly, confusion and guilty marring his sharp features, and she pointed discreetly with her head back to the other side of the room.

Lord Bridgerton followed the movement with his eyes and - because she had ben waiting for it this time - Kate saw as an expression of pain and longing crossed his face before the Viscount’s mask of indifference was back into place.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said, turning back to look her in the eye. “I'm perfectly happy where I am.”

Kate raised one her eyebrows - a move she had copied from her late grandmother -, the skepticism obvious in her features.  
“I assure you, Miss Sharma, Miss Rosso and I are merely old acquaintances.” He paused and looked back across the room towards the woman they were discussing. The crowd of admirers around Miss Rosso seemed to have increased, if that was at all possible. Kate could see now that some of the older women, widows with nothing to fear for their reputation such as Lady Cowper and Lady Danbury, had also joined their circle. She was watching the crowd so intently, wondering if any of the ladies would be persuaded to introduce her to Miss Rosso, that she almost missed the viscount’s next words.

“She has made her decision about me a long time ago.” He muttered, more to himself than to her, she supposed.

Her mother would’ve told her to pretend she didn’t hear such confession, one that clearly spoke of a prior and scandalous attachment.

But Kate never much heeded her mother’s advices.

“Is that so?” She enquired, forcing him to turn around and look at her. She didn’t know if the frown on his face was because she was daring to question him about his words or because she had forced him to pay attention to her, instead of looking across the room, to the one he wanted most. It didn’t much matter either way, she thought. “I find that most interesting.”

“Why is it interesting?” Lord Bridgerton asked, more out of politeness than anything else, she supposed. The British tried to keep their manners even amidst heartbreak.

Kate smiled softly. “When you’re not looking at, she is always looking at you, with that same expression of regret you have. It’s like a mirror. And her eyes followed you across the room the whole time we were dancing.” He closed his eyes during her speech, as if her words were unbearable. But there was so much Kate had noticed tonight, she couldn’t stop the words from coming. “When we waltzed, she…”

“That's enough.” He interrupted her sharply. “Thank you, Miss Sharma, but I think I shall retire for the evening."

“But she…you…” For the first time, Kate didn’t know what to say. She might not have thought this whole think through. She had thought he would have been happy to know his affections were corresponded.

“I don’t know how it works on the eastern corners of the Empire,” Anthony said, and for the first time, Kate thought she heard a hint of curiosity in his voice, about a faraway land where their fates might’ve been different, “but here in London, there are no happy endings for rakes and prima donnas.”

“I don’t understand…you could…” She started saying, but Anthony was already shaking his head, closing the subject behind them. She had thought he had put on the Viscount mask on before, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the resolution he supported now. He looked like a completely different man and the change disturbed her.

“I shall call on you and your sister tomorrow, if you will let me. We can go promenade if the weather is good.” He said, dropping a kiss to her gloved hand.

She didn’t consent to the visit, as she should have. She didn't felt the kiss he placed on her hand either. Instead, out of their own volition, her eyes travelled across the room, locking on a pair of light brown ones that were full of anguish. No one noticed her pain. Around her, they all smiled, dazzled by her talent and beauty, but, as Anthony left, Kate swore she saw the soprano shed a tear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got an ask that said "what if Kate fell in love with someone else, and Anthony married Siena, and everyone lived happily ever after" and immediately this conversation popped into my head. Not happy, but I guess we can imagine they will all get there someday.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments give me life. I'd love to hear your thoughts <3


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